Adventurers of the Unsung Heart
by Merciless Ink
Summary: The story is a parallel of the Princess and Captain Finn's lives, they meet and tell stories of their misadventures while making some new ones.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"If you had been there, you would know what it felt like. You would know what I'm talking about. A wave of joy and reprieve came crashing through our hearts; we held our final victory at last. We never thought that day would come, not after all that we had been through."

Walter used his hands and arms to mime a victorious blow in a sword-fighting move, as if the final stab through the air had won the entire battle. The little girl, sitting up with eagerness, was clutching her pink satin sheets – even her cozy little bed could not beckon her to sleep. She was wide-eyed with excitement and hungered to know what happened next. The middle-aged general in his semi-tattered uniform gleamed with experience and respect, the sash that bound his torso prided with his rank. He never cared to change out of his uniform, to him it was a badge worth showing off.

"And then what?" shouted the tiny princess.

Walter chortled. He leaned closer from where he sat and looked at the 5-year-old's hazel eyes.

"Then… We went home - and celebrated our good fortune with ale."

The child slumped back against the bed's headboard,

"Is that all?" she frowned, hoping for another twist in the ending. Like a hollow man swinging his axe out of nowhere, or perhaps a highwayman came out of hiding for a pathetic attempt at an assassination.

The candlelight on her side-table illuminated the contours of her small face and the upside-down curve of her lips; she fears they have come to the end of her story. Walter looked to her and chuckled at her disappointment to a simple pleasant ending.

"You know, Princess. Some soldiers would give anything to leave a battle victoriously and without a scratch. The fact your mother always survived these hour-long battles unharmed is a miracle to us all."

The Princess looked up at Walter, wondering where he's going with this. He continued,

"Some soldiers don't even get to make it home. Some had to be buried by their friends, left in the earth, and would never get to go home to see his wife and child."

She was reminded that even the best battle stories have sacrifices; Walter always carried this message to every bedtime tale. The girl looked down, feeling guilty, a rare trait for normal girls her age – but as royalty, she must comprehend this concept early on. Walter put an arm around her little shoulders, he looked like a gentle-giant compared to her. To ease her guilt he said,

"…But that is why we have Heroes like your mother, as Queen of Albion, she ruled her people with security and justice. She saved people where ever she went."

"But Walter, why must mother save people? She has many soldiers under her command; she leaves us every time just one person is in trouble."

"A human being with great power such as a Hero like your mother has a responsibility. To protect those who cannot protect their selves, with her around, she protected Albion and minimized bloodshed of the innocent. Like those of the soldiers who fought on her side. Life is an important and precious thing, it should never be wasted."

The thought sank in the child's mind in wonder; she lit up like a candle and stood on her bed, unveiling a hidden wooden toy sword from her pillow. She jolted it in the air as if announcing a war hero's cry.

"Then I will be, a Hero too! I will protect Albion and its people, from evil and darkness!"

The girl swung her arm in the air with so much force that she tripped and fell after a full swoop into Walter's arms. He stood her back up on her toes, then looked down and chuckled.

"You rest tonight girl, let the saving of the world in your brother's hands for now."

"Is Logan a Hero too, Walter?"

"Oh I'm sure of it; he has your mother's blood after all. And so do you."

"Walter… Teach me; teach me to become a Hero."

Walter's smile widened, his black gray-less moustache curved with it, and the creases of his face weren't as visible then.

"Of course lass, your training starts tomorrow. I expect you to be ready and willing." He said with a stern tone, that of a teacher, but then he softened with that of a father. "And I know you'll do me proud."

She looked like a little baby as he enclosed his arms around her as if he was hiding her from the world, but he knew his place and patted her on the head as a goodnight.


	2. Chapter 1: Growing Pains

Chapter 1:

Walter was barely 40 then. His muscles did not ache as much nor had his back given him so much grief in those years. But the code by which he stands for the Queen and for Albion, did not give room for such mortal grievances. He would always hold his head high, his sword readily unsheathed, and kept a close eye on Her Majesty's offspring. Before the children grew older, he followed the warrior-Queen where ever she ventured – alas he could not follow to her into death.

Logan took it very hard, he could tell. His silent mutiny towards the servants and his elders were obvious. From time to time, Logan would accuse a maid of poisoning his drink, and to quote, 'done it like she did to his mother'. The last maid (who happened to be new in the palace) scurried out of the room in fear and welled up in tears inside the kitchen. Walter had a long talk with Logan, he was to be crowned king tomorrow in front of his people, his servants, and his sister.

"Stop being daft, boy! You know very well your Queen mother died of old age. We all grow older you see, nothing lasts forever, not even a Hero."

"Heroes before my mother's time were persecuted and exterminated!" spat Logan, "and Walter, I am not-a-boy. Not anymore."

As the 20-year-old Logan stormed off, Walter heaved a deep sigh looking at him with worry. What if in the future perhaps, he thought - no. He mustn't think of such things; Albion will be safe with Logan, he is Sparrow's son. There is no real harm that he could do. However, he must be sure. He must insure that if somehow King Logan's reign ever goes wrong – someone must be there to see that things will be in order.

Walter Beck walked through the royal garden, under the sunshine, thinking about what he just told Logan; that nothing lasts forever. He then makes a turn into the kitchen and saw that the maid from earlier has calmed her nerves, he is glad of this. But he does not stop to make chat, instead he continued out the other way and up some stairs into the main hall. The General received nods from nobility, bows from servants and salutes from the guards. He opens a double door that led into the training room, there he sees a girl no younger than thirteen. She is practicing her full strikes and parries, but it was awkward and unconfident. Walter walks up behind the Princess and with a commanding voice says,

"Keep you back straight, but remember to keep your knees bent and flexible. You must be ready for any attack, at any direction."

The Princess nodded to her teacher and assumed her attacking stance. Walter smiled approvingly; he lifted her right elbow a bit higher to match her shoulder.

"If you were to attack, be sure you are ready to strike forward so that when you do this," he straightens her arm slowly and gently forward with two hands "your thrust move will be unmerciful".

The Princess smiled, but it disappeared as she stood up straight and lowered her position.

"I didn't say it was time to rest, assume your position", said Walter.

"Sir Walter. I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are still willing to teach me how to fight, but…"

"But?"

"Mother... I mean, Her Majesty has passed now. And Logan will be King of Albion. When he sent for me last night; he wishes I do not train anymore, he wishes that I will act like a Lady from now on – attend receptions and…"

"Is this what _you _wish?" he asked abruptly.

The Princess looked on in surprise, for a second there; she thought that the entire castle would force her to become some kind of lady-in-waiting to her brother. She was almost afraid that she would be put into a useless role - a simple monarch brat. Thus, she shook her head. Beck nodded and she re-assumed her stance.

"Now let's return to some block moves."

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the rusty town of [redacted], lived a family supported by a humble shoemaker and his wife. The couple had long survived on a day-by-day basis, but they were able to put food on their table and clothe the children. They are a proper Mr. and Mrs. Finn by name and manner, however not much could be said about their four sons. Mr. Finn brought them up as closely as he could, but at times his work caused him to become apathetic at young boyish activities that he himself occasionally entailed on as a youth thus concluded that whatever his sons embarked on is rendered harmless.<p>

Mrs. Finn however, disagreed with both Mr. Finn's attitude and the acts of her boys' mischief. Every so often there would be an egg farmer who visited her and complained that four dozen of his eggs had gone, and he was sure it was Jason Finn who took them. Mrs. Finn would assure him that it was not. But by supper, she'd drag him by the ear and keep him to his room until two mornings later. By that last impending morning, Mrs. Cauliflower would approach her at the market and complain about her house covered in the same 4 dozen eggs – and yes she counted. Mrs. Finn would return the accusation with an earful, telling Mrs. Cauliflower that she had better learn her place or her husband will refuse to repair the shoes she wore to call on men across Bowerstone in the middle of the night. Who has that much time on their hands (or feet for that matter) to travel all the way from the east of Brightwood anyhow?

It was a bright sunny day; the grass is saturated green and reflected upon the little ponds around town in a chipper Sunday afternoon. In the landscape view of town are the golden yellow fields that gleamed under the slight smoky blue. Unfortunately the boys gave the town the nickname "Gunk" as a mockery of the townspeople's less than poor conduct and newly invented machines that leaked oils. In the Finn household, the three eldest boys tip-toed around the kitchen and hurried off just outside the town's pub to listen to their youngest, Ben, tell some awfully-composed jokes to a sleeping crowd. Just when the little blonde jokester thought he had discovered some comedic talent at the age of eight; he now feared that his days of a child star is numbered. He had gotten too old! What a terrible day to be eleven, he thought. I am going to be twelve, my voice is cracking, I've become rather odorous and my limbs are growing, so is my… SPLAT!

"Oww!" cried Ben.

He rubbed the back of his neck; his yelp only nearly woke up one of his listeners. The outdoor podium was rather silent, until he heard his brothers sweeping through with their overgrown feet and awkwardly lanky flesh. Quentin picked up the pea that had shot Ben and fell onto the wooden floor,

"Relax little brother, 'twas only a wee pea."

"Hah! Were you talking about Ben?" laughed William.

The little boy immediately became flushed with red and protested to his brother for being inconsiderate; also that his private matters are, well . . . – private.

"What was that you shot me with anyway?" Ben asked.

His eldest brother Jason, pulled out of a sack and presented the pellet rifle 2.0 (why it is called that is unknown to the brothers). Jason told Ben that he will become a man soon enough; they think he deserves a present for assisting the brothers in looting the townspeople blind all these years.

"You know I never approved of you guys doing crime" said Ben.

"Yes well, if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't have bought you this amazing piece of fine machinery for you." Said Jason.

Ben smiled, he could not believe it himself, he always wanted a rifle, but one that shot bullets. This would do for now though. Then he looked at his three brothers suspiciously.

"Wait, what's the catch?"

The three looked about their selves, as if looking for the answer in the overcast sky. They claimed that they had no intentions of exploiting any of his talents whatsoever, oh no, they weren't going to have him entertain folks with his amazing skill of range. Of course not! How absurd!

Unfortunately, as soon as Benjamin discovered that he is rather good with the newfound toy, the brothers imprisoned him in a shooting booth and were paid plenty of gold to see the amazing little scamp shoot some bottles – very accurately. That is if the local authorities did not scare them away for their recent con games. The four boys would then resort to newcomers and passerby of the town to entertain. Eventually they ran out of people to please.

At the age of fifteen Ben was starting to participate in household chores more, but did not abandon his target practices. His mother often looked out the window with admiration; she remembered how the Albion army looked with their rifles, fine velvety red uniforms and tall hats. How handsome they looked! It was almost twenty years ago, it is rather peaceful in Albion nowadays and most girls considered royal soldiers of rank to be quite the catch. As soon as Mrs. Finn called on Ben to help her with the dishes, she asked him,

"You know Ben, with your good looks, wit and charm – you can take that talent of yours far. I do not believe we will be at war any time soon, I think the royal army would be very fitting for you."

Ben was not raised to admire authority in particular, especially since recent intimidations the local guards would give him and his brothers for being up to no good. Granted, the brothers really were up to no good and it grew increasingly severe each month.

"I don't know whatever you mean, woman. The royal army is not for me, why, I am saving up to be an adventurer. I want to see the world."

"You can do all that in the army, you know."

"Ah mother, mother" cooed Ben with indifference and exaggerated confidence, "You don't understand - I want to be a Hero, like the old Queen."

"The Queen!" laughed Mrs. Finn, "Why she is quite old, I doubt she would live any longer, my son. After she is gone, that would be the end of the Hero blood line, an end to a legend. Now, Benny I was thinking not only would you look dashing, but you'll also be safe and find a nice young girl."

Ben spat in disgust, disapprovingly by his mother. He explained with earnest why girls are stupid and that he is not interested in such things. He continued to speak as if he was in charge of his own destiny and knew how it would be written. It disappointed him to know there aren't any Heroes left, but if there is still time, why not visit the old Queen and ask her many adventurer questions?

But alas, outside their open window, a town crier galloped through Gunk with great despair and urgency. He screamed as he rung his bell violently. As he passed by the Finns' home, Ben could only make out "Queen of Albion – Hero - Dead!" The voice strayed farther and farther away, repeating these words and more. It came as a shock to both Ben and his mother. She nearly started tearing up, feeling ashamed for not knocking on wood sooner. His brothers and father came rushing in asking if they heard the news and questioned amongst each other who would take over the throne. Ben, in the midst of all this chatter, escaped back to his area of target practice full of broken cans and bottles. His thoughts were silent; he didn't know what to think. He could only feel that this was the most disappointing thing in his life, he had always wanted to meet Heroes – and now he may never get that chance. Also, he could not help but to feel that this depression is only a mark of the beginning to what is yet to come.


	3. Ch 2: An Attachment at Ft Mourningwood

**So I'm pressing the fast forward button. Most of you probably finished the game, and it's unfair to you guys to having to read what happened allover again. I couldn't be clever with my version of how Ben and Princess led their lives. So I decided that since the title of this series is called "Adventures of the Unsung Heart", Ben and the Princess can each tell a different adventure story from their past while making some of their own together. Some adventures will be based on the game, some fabricated. Hope this will make your reading experience more enjoyable.  
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* * *

><p>Chapter 2: An Attachment at Fort Mourningwood<p>

In Mourningwood, Walter and the Princess laid their bedrolls for the night. Walter encouraged the girl to walk around, listen to the soldiers and get to know them. This became rather nostalgic to her, because every soldier she met reminded her of Walter's stories. Each one was brave and willing to die for Albion and their King, but they are also worried. Not really for their lives, they have ale to help with that. Instead they worried for their families, their children and whether their deaths will be worth the cause. She tried to remember each face as perhaps a leader should, but became saddened at the possibility of seeing these faces again in corpses.

It was then she came across a corner where a group of soldiers sat around a fire. One soldier revealed to her that he was writing a biography for Captain Finn. The man himself stood there in front of them telling his adventures about "women with strong-thighs". The Princess wished she had not eaves drop on those words; it became uncomfortable to her, but at the same time interested to hear more. The men joked and laughed as Finn told them another story of when he ended up talking the first mate on a pirate's ship into giving him valuables that the pirates stole from a storekeeper from Bloodstone – saying that the taken jewels are cursed. Keeping them will attract the ghost of Captain Dread.

The Princess looked at the Captain with great curiosity. The man is somewhat handsome yes, but not in a way Elliott was handsome. There's something more to Captain Finn, something wise and experienced – she began to admire this quality in him. The young girl did not realize she was observing him longer than necessary for a woman to look at a man; it was as if she was encircling him and inspecting every inch. Ben ignored the group's conversation and turned his head to notice her – she caught his eye almost immediately, it stopped her dead and so she walked away in embarrassment.

Minutes later, Captain Finn broke away from his men to search for the Princess just outside the safe zone of Fort Mourningwood. He found her sitting underneath a rotting tree – barren without life or color.

"It seems neither Princess-y nor feminine to sit under an ugly tree" said Finn jokingly.

At first she did not say anything in response, so Ben cleared his throat and continued,

"Come now, Princess. I was just joking, in fact I think it's a rather lovely tree-"

"I am not a conventional Princess, Captain" she interrupted, "I've had to escape my own home, watch my childhood sweetheart die, and now I must save a nation of people. Sir, with you and Major Swift's help – we can win this war."

"Now wait a minute. You cannot expect us to simply gather what little food we have left and follow you to uncertain battles. We need provisions and most importantly, more bodies. We are dying as it is out here in Fort Mourningwood."

"I understand, but this war – it is gravely important. It is to – "

"Save Albion, I know. You and Wally made it pretty clear when you first got here. Look, we were sent on a mission – it's a dumb one, but we hold this Fort from the Hollow Men, in which we have your brother to thank by the way for holding it to our throats."

The Princess was silent at first as she looked down at her unsheathed glowing sword. She pointed with it.

"Captain Finn, do you see this tree?"

"That nasty bald barren creature you call a tree, yes."

"This tree was once green, Captain. It was fertile and healthy. Since the Hollow Men ran this place, the trees have changed. They grew weak and dark, dry and…"

"Dead."

"This is what I fear for the people of Albion. Logan will run them to the ground if he has to. He hadn't always been so terrible, but I have seen the darkness in him, the evil he became. I aim to protect this nation from becoming like this tree, the way your company is protecting this fort from the Hollow Men. Theresa – I mean, the Seer. She showed me what death looks like, I've seen it."

As the Princess stood and wished to leave, Captain Finn reminded her of his rank and said she was not dismissed. She looked awkwardly at him, she did not wish to undermine his true position next to her, but she listened anyway in respect.

"I have seen death too, Princess. He is a cruel joker."

Finn drew uncomfortably close for the Princess' liking. She could feel his breath on her chest, he is obviously about to reveal something heavy – his gaze froze her from where she stood.

"Death thought that maybe it was fun to make me an orphan. Thought I would despair to hear my two eldest brothers killed, and my third – die before my presence."

It was this that the Princess heard her own heart break; her face could not maintain composure.

"But I did not break. I did not fall. I lived on; I believed that my journey even until now is worth something to my family's spirits."

"How is it, I wonder," said the Princess "that you have the ability to keep so calm in all of this, while I suffer in the guilt? What's your secret?" said the Princess with a smile.

Then with unexpected display of such an action, Captain Finn dared to touch the monarch's cheek with his fingers. Her heart started race, as he spoke.

"Years of practice, dear."

Then he bowed respectfully, dismissed himself, and walked back to the Fort. The Princess' mind raced with thoughts, her heart could not stop beating rapidly. It all felt new to her similar to when she realized she developed feelings for Elliott, only stronger than that. Her cheeks flushed with pink – but she had to stop herself and attempt to think rationally. Come on! She thought. 'Years of practice'? That is a total innuendo to his sexual experience with other women. And how dare he touch her cheek like that? She is royalty, well - rebel royalty; which is a shameful position (by tradition and decree) in comparison to when she lived under her brother. At this point, she could only wonder if what just happened was a sign of affection or sly charm. Either way she could not afford to be under an infatuated spell right now.


	4. Chapter 3: The Adventurer

Chapter 3: The Adventurer

Walter reminisced the glory days that he and Major Swift shared; the Queen he served was a much nobler in royalty by name and leadership. Respect for the royal army was far greater, even then. But now, everywhere he goes, he sees families driven out by their homes – forced to go under dire circumstances. A lot of these discrepancies committed through the use of soldiers - when in fact, the very same soldiers would soon be replaced by Logan's elite guards.

"What is Logan planning, Walter? Why the sudden cruelty and heartless shootings of those poor people? All they wanted was an explanation of why they had to suffer under his decisions" said Swift as he lit his pipe and inhaled very deeply in the cold air.

Walter shook his head. He confessed his thoughts to Swift that he could only draw conclusions from his observations.

"It was not the death of the late Queen that pushed him over the edge; it's something else."

"And? What do you think it could be?"

"I wish I knew specifically, but I couldn't help but to notice the grave look on Logan's face when he returned from Aurora. I am convinced it was then he grew mad. Mad with power. Or perhaps – mad with fear. I had never seen a man so afraid of his own shadow. The paranoia swallowed him whole. He distrusted everyone, let alone his own sister" Walter heaved a sigh, "I could not help him. Sometimes I wondered if the boy's upbringing was my undoing. I should have done more."

"You can't blame yourself, old friend. You were not the man's father."

Walter fell silent at this response; he stared into space, imagining the pain this rebellion will bring upon the siblings; they will most certainly face each other head on. If only there was some other way, but all sense of logic and rationale has left the King. He must be put to a stop. What was it that Logan saw during his trip in Aurora? What changed him so drastically?

The Princess approached the two veterans with careful steps and respectable manners. Major Swift is deeply impressed with the Princess' overall nature and propriety, her display of confidence is very reassuring but what about her leadership, he wonders.

"Good evening, gentleman. I've talked to most of the men in your company, Major Swift. I profess I was quite taken back by them. Each and every man here is a noble and brave soul."

"And I trained them to the best of my abilities."

"I hope you're not including Ben Finn as one of those men, Princess" snorted Walter, "What a fine gentleman you turned that rapscallion into, Swift".

Major Swift laughed,

"I must be perfectly honest, when the lad first registered under my command he was quite a handful. Smart, handful, but smart. You couldn't always keep him under control, but the boy is skilled with that rifle of his and he proves a great role model for these men."

"If I may inquire, sir. Why did Captain Finn join the army? I understand he once sailed among pirates?"

Both Swift and Walter laughed; they then explained to her that he did not exactly sail with pirates – not entirely voluntary anyway. Swift continued to briefly mention that Finn's past was a colorful one, meaning that he had many adventures and immersed himself in different circumstances. It took him a while to decide to join the army; it seemed there was nothing else for him to dive into.

"And he really embraced this idea of a vagabond's life?"

"Well," shrugged Swift "perhaps Your Highness should address the matter with the man himself. I am sure he will explain his past in full length and detail – though I am certain you will find him in a most suitable light."

"Oh! I did not mean I have a problem with him… I…"

"He is a good man, my dear. I assure you, there is no need to whisper. Speak plainly and he will so in return."

"Yes but if he does not keep his hands to himself, he will answer to me" said Walter.

"I can handle it, Walter."

And so the Princess, walked along the second floor of the fort where the soldiers kept watch, the fire pits continued to burn. She kept warm by it, where she sees Ben in the corner of her eye. She couldn't believe that he was still writing that silly auto-biography, while hollow men could possibly arrive any minute. Without much sound but some awkwardness in her steps, she moved just enough to get closer to Ben as he sat in a corner only a few feet away from the fire pit.

"You shouldn't move away from the fire, Princess. Your hands will get too cold and acquire frostbite. It is unfortunate to chop those lovely fingers off." Said Ben without looking up from his book.

The Princess made a frown, but she kept composure despite her annoyance. Ben was joking of course, he smiled at her, to display that he meant not to insult her. It's not cold enough to get frostbite anyway. He rather enjoyed teasing the girl; he never got to be this close to a Hero let alone a Princess. It was as if he was exploring any vulnerability a Hero might have. He simply could not resist poking fun, she was harmless and certainly did not appear intimidating. Even though she has a noble and heroic air about her, the Princess seemed rather skinny to be a warrior. To his surprise she did not to respond unkindly to his previous remark, rather, she sat right next to him and looked curiously at his book.

"No you may not," said Ben "not until it is done."

"I don't understand you, Captain."

"Please, just Ben. My men call me Captain. Are you a man?"

She shook her head.

"Not your looks, that's for sure." he mumbled.

"Cap… - Ben. I don't understand you. I say this because, at one minute you are a well-mannered gentleman, then the next you insult and degrade me regardless of my royal position."

"I suppose it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, actually, it… makes me happy."

Ben nearly dropped his feather and ink; he looked at the Princess with surprise. Before, he had men of rank give him orders and beat him for back talking. He also had women who thought themselves entitled to be treated like princesses; they too would beat him for being the cause of their displeasure.

"Happy?"

"My whole life, I had always been treated with such formality. It was tiresome. No one would talk to me like a human being – except for Walter of course. My butler, Jasper, he knew how to be formal but caring at the same time. Everyone else, even my brother, no one knew how to care for me properly."

Ben took the feather and started doodling sketches of his new companion; he was not a very good artist. But he held his book tight and thought of the only people in the world who ever cared about him.

"How did you lose them?" asked the Princess.

"Who?"

"The people who cared for you? Your brothers, your parents."

"It almost felt instantaneous from one's passing to another. Like a domino effect."

* * *

><p>"No! You can't have him!"<p>

No matter how accurate Ben's shots were, he could not kid himself that he was shooting peas out of his rifle. The two large brawny men wiped off pea juice from their angry faces. They shoved the boy back and grabbed hold of the fidgety Quentin, Ben could only look on helplessly. As the bounty hunters dragged him away out the door, the assassins held his parents hostage; Quentin expressed reassurance to his youngest brother.

He smiled half wittingly, that was the usual smile Quentin gave his brothers when he would say "Oh well" after every failed schemes they conjured up. Ben knew Quentin's debts were deep in the gutter and the result was just as he feared. Jason was killed by his lover's husband; William was gone after his arrest for running a con game and stopped writing after he was transferred to Bowerstone and now Quentin.

At that moment, Ben and his parents heard a gunshot outside their door. His mother wailed hysterically as she fell on the kitchen floor. His father tried to comfort her, but he too was at a loss for words. The silence in Finn's household carried on for many years to come.

The next year Mrs. Finn died of a broken heart. Her depression got the best of her and did not live to see fifty. It was no secret that the cause of her death was due to the loss of her three oldest sons. As the shoe shop became increasingly avoided, Ben took over the shop and used his wits as well as charms to sell more than just shoes. He would sell mere household items like toothbrushes and such. It was during this time period of Mr. Finn's severe drinking habits that. Ben did what he could to save his father and their home. But, you might as well say, Mr. Finn then died of a broken heart too. To Finn, however, the moment his father really died was when his mother passed.

Even though Ben was seventeen, an orphan and his home was up for auction – he is not disheartened. He thought to himself, that although he will live on merely pennies a day he will go on living, hopeful and positive. He promises himself to live on for his family, live life to the fullest. His dreams as a child resurfaced, after he shook himself silly and decided this truly was the beginning of his adventure.

* * *

><p>"What was the first thing you did?" asked the Princess.<p>

"Like all wanderers, I looked for a job. I paid for all the funerals and the debts my brothers owed – so naturally I was broke."

He started off working at the Brightwall Library after other little jobs in a number of towns.

* * *

><p>"A book of Heroes!" cried Ben.<p>

Samuel, the library's curator smiled at his excitement, it had been a while since anyone showed such enthusiasm for books as he does.

"Yes, Young Finn. The Queen ensured that all stories whether myth or biographical are kept in the collection. Go ahead, you'll find it very fascinating."

The book appeared quite old and worn; he wiped off some dust from the book cover with his sleeve.

"Not the most popular read, is it?"

"Oh I assure you, it is quite aged. Often I would find someone procure very early published books such as these, this one in particular is less than half a century old. I've seen older records and books about Heroes before, but that is one of the best we have kept."

Ben made sure his low wage at the library would not be too little in reward, he often would take breaks from his duties and sit down to acquire as much knowledge as he could draw.

* * *

><p>"Hmm, that must have been the time before Logan shut down the library. I was appalled, especially since I never heard him give this order. I love to read."<p>

"I wasn't much of a reader before I left Gunk, I didn't really have the time. But I read so many fascinating things about Heroes."

"Oh?" said the Princess inquisitively "And what exactly did you find out?"

"Well… Heroes can fall and land impossible heights without breaking any bones. They are ten times stronger than the average man, have a golden aura about them, and are _seductively_ alluring." Ben raised his eyebrows as he said this with a smooth voice, but in mocking fashion. The Princess elbowed the soldier, laughing and making sure he keeps his distance. She said that he can't be serious. He teased her some more saying that he is.

"I bet Heroes have to be able to, you know…"

"What?"

"Breed. Continue the bloodline, ensuring the survival of the race."

Now it was the Princess' turn to raise eyebrows, but not as seductively as Ben would have wanted a woman too. She just gave him an indifferent look that said, "Really?"

"Anyway, what did you do after?"

* * *

><p>In the Cow and Corset, Ben was doing terribly unwell during his comedic podium performances. The sketches he came up with to entertain the humorous folk of Bowerstone, was not particularly tasteful to be called 'comedy'. He had worked as a bartender, waiter and comedian for about a year. But he was glad he decided to approach a burly man with a rifle, who looked like he was escorting a frightened traveller in one of the booths.<p>

"Beers for the lovely couple" said Ben, he served the order of bottles to the two men. The smaller man, who looked to have travelled a lot, sank in and cautiously drank his beer.

"Don't mind him, his nerves ain't wired right."

The burly man with the fur vest looked friendly enough, but as he patted on his rifle by the chair, he seemed to be indicating that he is protecting the fellow.

"Are you hired help, sir?" asked Ben.

"That you are right lad."

"So how do I get my hands on one of those?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey everyone! So it's about 2 AM when I finished re-reading this chapter again and again. I realize I have a habit of mixing styles and frequent fragments. It's not fair to you guys if the grammar and such is terrible. So please, do send in a review. Whether good or bad, I love to know I'll learn and improve. I hope you guys like this chapter - I definitely want to incorporate more action next time.<strong>


	5. Chapter 4: Adventurer Ben's Quest

Chapter 4: Adventurer Ben's First Real Quest

"So you became an escort?"

The princess asked quite unflatteringly with the title, in which, Ben corrected her of its proper meaning.

"Nonono no no… I was a body guard. An escort is entirely different."

"Do you accompany men?"

"Yes."

"Do they pay you gold?"

"Yes."

"Then you are an escort."

"Yes but..."

"You are ensuring that by the end of the road travelled, they will have a _happy_ ending."

"In which you mean, ensuring their life is saved."

The Princess' only laughed at her crude sense of humor, she patted Ben on the back as he laughed with her.

"Anyway, with the amount of gold I had saved up from working at the pub, I bought my very own rifle – it was a basic model but it served me well. I remember my first encounter with my first bandits very clearly."

* * *

><p>Up and down the hills Ben traveled with a merchant who traded and sold food supplies to the ships in the docks throughout Albion. Boone Lister was well-dressed but a bit too well for such a far travel from Oakfield to Bowerstone. A dealer of money and his bodyguard must first travel through the bandit ridden coast of Rookridge – other dangers that lurk the dark corners also included the little ugly folk of hobbes. The sun was slowly setting, the gleaming of its golden light shone throughout the landscape. Along the trail up the hill, was a full-view of the ocean it is as beautiful as its sunset the way it reflects perfect gold, but it would not last forever. At some point, as Ben knew, the shadows of the forest would chase them while on the trail.<p>

"It's going to get dark soon, Mr. Lister. 'Tis best we camp out for the night, don't you think?"

Mr. Lister was a man in his fifties and with age grew stubbornness. Over time his disposition had often grew more and more stern, the awkward man did not delight in things like small talk. Often he acted as if he was sixty, a rigid older man who dressed in black robes and carried a burdensome bag of records and money over his back. He swung his big head that stuck upon his puny skinny body, looked back at Ben who was right behind him, keeping watch from the rear end. His slick gray goatee stuck out of his chin as he stroked it and thought carefully of this proposition.

"I do not think so, Mr. Finn. It would be a danger to camp now; I do think we are getting quite close to Oakfield. It's just over that mountain."

Ben was not one to give an old man a hard time, but he of all people are equipped to know that to continue the journey is not the brightest of ideas. Ben tried to reason with Boone, but was without avail. The merchant grew in stubbornness each time the subject was brought up; he became so upset that he sped his tread.

"Please, Mr. Lister. If we continue through that mountain during nightfall – we would make ourselves easier targets for bandits to rob and kill."

"That is what I hired you for, Mr. Finn" the merchant huffed.

Ben grunted with disappointment, he ought to teach him a lesson or two. He did not want to get killed because of another man's foolishness. He had escorted several men and a woman before Mr. Lister, but luckily enough did not get into trouble. This time, he had a bad feeling.

The two men felt the air cool down as the moon started to appear with its silvery illumination – this at least gave Finn some comfort. However that comfort was cut short once he heard howling in the distance. 'This is just great,' he thought 'not only will I get robbed but I will also be mutilated by balverines'. The journey continues by crossing a bridge. Before they crossed, Ben had to ask one more time,

"This is our last chance, Mr. Lister. We could sleep off the night here and continue the trail in the morning. It will make it easier on ourselves, we don't have to slave our energy away by the time we reach Oakfield's docks."

Lister merely gave a "harrumph!" without looking at Ben, then continued walking over the bridge and entered a new path surrounded by trees and steep roads.

Ben drew his rifle from his back, readied it in his hands. He did not want to cock it quite yet, they were quiet enough to hopefully silently shimmy their way out of this. There is no doubt, however, that someone has got them in their sights by now. The further they walked, the more his senses heightened, he was nervous true, but how could the bloody merchant be so calm! It was at that instant, Ben thought he heard noises, he then told himself not to get too paranoid – he has faced men in fights before – well, fist fights. Those were worth some gold, he thought. 'Wait - focus!' he told himself. Ben shook off his distracting thoughts. But it was in that moment that three men jumped out of the nearby trees, one got hold of the merchant's neck and instantaneously held a knife to his face. The remaining two with swords appeared behind Ben; the first man charged toward him. While still holding his rifle with both hands, he used it as a staff to deflect all the attacks. Within seconds, the bandit took another swing at him, but Ben deflected it once again to where he disarmed the bandit! Then he kicked the red-clothed robber a few feet away, cocked his rifle, and then shot him in the stomach instantly. With a few more rounds in his rifle, he took two more shots at his friend who came running behind him; he fell to the ground with the first bandit. Hearing a nervous cackle, Ben turned around to see the remaining bandit that held his employer hostage.

"Give it up, boy. Drop your weapon and give me all your belongings – or the old man gets it."

Ben did not utter a word; he raised his rifle and aimed it toward the bandit's face. He closed one eye, carefully zoomed his vision on him. This made the bandit even more nervous as much as the merchant feared for his life.

"N-now listen, kid. You don't have to do that. Look, I'll let the old guy go. You're just going to end up hurting him. That is unless you want some of this loot too, we can share!"

"Shoot him, Mr. Finn!" cried Lister.

Ben did not move the intensity of his gaze and the aim of his rifle took a toll on the bandit's weak mind.

"Y-you know, you're out of bullets."

"Maybe. I shot one bullet to your first friend, then two or three in the other fella. I had a total four rounds, but who's really counting?"

"Pfff… don't joke now…"

Perhaps it is due to his silence, but this scared the bandit out of his wits that Ben might be crazy enough to take the risk – so he let go of Mr. Lister and ran off.

"Why did you let him go? Are you incompetent in your aim?" demanded Lister.

"The man wasn't really going to do it, I could tell. Why end a man's life when he clearly wasn't going to go through with it?" Ben answered; he put his rifle in his back holster.

"But how confident are you in your range skills?" Lister inquired.

"You bloody well saw how my range skills are!" Ben snapped, "I could undoubtedly take him out between the eyes – if you know what I mean."

Lister merely laughed, amused and alarmingly villainous as he applauded Ben. He was at a loss for words; he raised his eyebrows in confusion at the merchant. Suddenly, Ben felt a strikingly hard blow on the back of his head and blacked out.

When Ben came to consciousness he was lying face down on the dirty grass, he lifted his head to find men laughing all around him, each sitting on their own stone, stool or treasure chest. He noticed the moon was gone; the night would have been pitch-black if it wasn't for a bonfire that lit in the middle of a bandit camp! He then heard a familiar chuckle,

"Bravo, Ben Finn. Bravo. Your skills and intuition does amuse me, but whether it suits our little… group. We have yet to find out."

"Your… group?" said Ben as he rubbed the back of his head. He bled a little, a flashback came to him at that moment, but he shook it off and stood in front of the merchant he thought was Boone Lister. The man no longer appeared puny, he stood tall and straight. His formerly heavy clothes were replaced in lighter pants and shirt, with an addition of a bandana tied around his head. The clothes he wore before disguised his real physique and potential strength.

"One of my men watched you closely, Mr. Finn. You've got the spirit, that of a vagabond. You yearn for gold and adventure; you could be one of us."

Ben smirked,

"I know who you are, I know exactly who you lot are. And I'm no murderer."

Lister shook his head,

"Tsk tsk, my boy. You have us mistaken, we are like you." With his booted foot he kicked off the top of a chest, and there shone bright yellow of gold. The reflection of the fire danced around the coins, all collected from innocent bystanders and weary travelers. "I saw the way you handle that rifle, Mr. Finn. You are skilled, yes."

"I thank you for your compliment, Mr. Lister. But I'm afraid my moral standard of a life's earning is not quite comparable to yours." As Ben said this he reached for his back holster, only to find it was empty. The men around him laughed, a dozen mouths, he counted.

"Looking for this, Mr. Finn?" laughed Lister, as he held up Ben's old worn rifle. Boone Lister patted a steel flintlock rifle that he now holds in his holster on the right side of his waist – showing off the shine of its white gold decoration.

Ben really was in a tight situation now, he is unarmed and defenseless from a dozen hulking men included the mysterious leader of the pack.

"Now, now. I wish not to waste such talent. I figured you'd be perfect to start off with the rank of bandit. Then, once you honed your skills. You could become a one of my elites, a contractual assassin. What do you say, Ben?" said Lister with personable informality.

"I guess you leave me with no choice, Mr. Lister."

"Boone, dear boy, Boone."

"Mr. Boone" continued Ben, "You appear to be the leader of these bandits. But are you really truly worthy to position yourself in this gang?"

At this, Lister was perplexed. Here he offered an opportunity rarely extended personally to a man, whose ego will imposition him unfavorably. Ben walked in a circle, observing his surroundings further as he spoke,

"I say you prove to me, you really are the leader. Unless you're just an old man that lets his men do the dirty work for him. Or is the leader somewhere else in this group?"

Ben eyed a couple of swords, some spherical bombs and his own rifle in Lister's hand.

"Be sure, Mr. Finn. You are speaking to him, himself."

"Then duel me, sir - if you dare."

"You are definitely off your rocker. I knew you could kill the man who held me hostage; and yet, you decided to spare his life. It's foolish I say. And now I will teach you that mercifulness is a useless character."

Lister picked up a steel long sword, threw it at Ben's direction for him to catch, then drew his own. Lister's sword appeared a half a foot longer than Ben's, its handle is trimmed and decorated with white gold similar to his rifle, its blade curved elegantly and a luxurious touch is added with a sapphire diamond in the middle of the handle's guard. Both men raised their swords in preparation, bowed, and Ben barely dodged the immediate assault Lister abruptly and without hesitation laid upon him. The circle of bandits got riled up; they cheered and shouted savagely as if they had yet to see a real action. It was a thrill for Lister and his men, but for Ben it's a fight for his life. For a few minutes, Ben could only parry Lister's attacks within the circle.

"You lot are nothing but pirates. Going around, looting and killing civilians."

In response to this comparison, Lister made Ben trip and kicked him to fall on the ground. The men jeered at Ben. Lister approached him without fear of being struck; the bonfire eerily emphasized the shadows of wrinkles and anger in his face.

"Pirates? I kill and eat pirates, boy. We are assassins; the best of murderers, people cannot see us or hear us. They die before they even realize. Pirates are loud whore-mongers, they plunge blindly. But we! We are born for glory."

At an instant, the crowd shoved the poor weary Ben Finn upward to stand and fight some more. But without any notice, Ben had a lit a bomb and rolled it in Lister's direction and its explosion took out at least four other men. The smoke overwhelmed the scene, Ben used this to his advantage to hide and confuse the criminals. One by one he took out every sword-wielding bandit and assassin, he moved from place to place frequently and tacitly. No one knew where he was, he rolled more bombs are the smoke started to clear. When sword-fighting was not his best suit, Ben would reach in his enemy's holster and shoot his own pistol at him. There was so much confusion, Ben tactfully planned his moves. From the distance, he could hear Boone Lister's monstrous voice screaming his name, searching with great fury. Ben hid in a tent, he reloaded the pistols he found and dual-wielded them, taking out the rest of Lister's crew. As the last bomb's smoke cleared, he took one final headshot at the last bandit. He dropped the empty pistols and picked up his old rifle that Lister dropped earlier. He reloaded, cocked it, and aimed it directly at Lister. But at the same time, Lister had his steel flintlock rifle up at Ben.

"I did not survive a band of pirates, just to be killed by you, Finn. I did not force Captain Dread to meet his doom, just to be killed by – you!"

"And I did not come all this way to be led into a trap by an old man. Called me foolish, did you?"

"It appears we are at a stale-mate", said Lister insidiously.

"So it appears."

"What are we to do?"

"This is what we're going to do, we will walk away. And independently in our own direction, I never want to ever see you. You will leave Rookridge and live on without recruiting any more men."

Lister nodded mockingly, he lowered his rifle and began to turn and walk away, Ben did the same. But then Lister raised his rifle immediately after,

"Foolish boy!"

Ben ducked and fell on one knee, turned 180 degrees and shot Lister in the stomach. It immediately struck him to the ground.

"I told you, I didn't want to go through here nightfall." Said Ben as he picked up _The Wreckager_ in its holster and picked it up.

Boone Lister only laughed in coughs, his last dying breath was a cackle – and at this, Ben shuddered. The once merchant, then turned assassin leader Boone Lister died. Ben scouted the camp for as many bags of money he could take with him and double holstered his new rifle and sword onto his back.

On the way to Oakfield, Ben shared what little amounts of gold to beggars and accompanied traveling shopkeepers from harm. With his new weapons, Ben appeared more confident and experienced. It was starting from Oakfield, he decided with all the gold he found, he could finally go out and see the world freely.

* * *

><p>"I wish I had been there, I bet we could make a pretty good team" said the Princess.<p>

Ben smiled, it seems that he still doubts the Princess' skills and strength as a fighter. He told her that he agreed; however, saving the Princess in every squeemish fight with a hobbe is hardly called teamwork. The Princess punched at Ben's theoretical envisioning of what fighting by her side would look like.

"Why must you be so, damn…"

"–charming?", said Ben.

The Princess bit her lip, she wanted to say "distasteful", but she fears she would only offend the man. She liked him in every way, his features are awfully amiable but his character is questionable at times. He means well, but she doesn't know if she could depend on him in regard of the rebellion and companion. This arduous journey she and Walter are about to embark on will be difficult and trying. She doesn't even know if he is exaggerating his stories.

Ben looked longingly at her, her silence was unsatisfying and he demanded her full attention.

"What about you, Princess? Any stories to tell? Any maiden gossip you share with the servants? A tale of the day you couldn't decide what to wear to a ball?"

"Your cruel teasing saddens me, Ben. I have no stories of the kind."

"Oh. Then your life is as boring and dull as I imagined it would be."

"But I did run away from the castle, once."

"Oh! Do tell." He exclaimed gaily mimicking a woman's voice.

* * *

><p><strong>Hi everyone, this was my version of how Ben got started in the bodyguard business, and how it also ended quickly. I know his stories insinuated that he patiently earned every gold and saved little by little - but I figured why not give the guy a head start and go see the world right away? Anyway, I hope you liked this adventure. If you're out there, and you're reading, please drop a little hello message or even a review just to tell me how you liked it and if I'm going the right direction here. Thanks! I'll keep writing.<strong>


	6. Chapter 5: The Princess and the Mortar

**Chapter 5: The Princess and the Mortar**

The Princess knew Ben fancied her, but she continued to lead him on as if she did not notice his approach - much. God only knows where the man picks up his women, but she aims not to be one of them. After all the time she wanted to feel close to someone for a change, the Princess still, did not forget her royal position. The impropriety of having "loose relationships" was not something she intended to have in her résumé. She conversed as diligently and guarded as she could. But even Avo could not deny that she yearned for intimacy. As she grew older, any sign of affection was hindered in her presence. All the men in her life could only give her praises and advice. In Logan's case, any sign of warm affection is far from what is expected of the way he treats his sister. Any slight congratulation or acknowledgement of her existence just never happened – his eyes would avert from her in coldness.

The night, too, grew colder now. Ben shifted himself nearer to her, as the men around them watched from their posts in the distance. They eagerly watched for any sign of romance; more watched from behind books or guns, some had stolen glances as they stood facing away. The Princess' guard became even more heightened, her body stiffened, she wanted closeness – but this was too close! Ben, to his dismay, noticed her awkward rigidness. She pretended to give breath to her hands and places them on her face to keep her warm, when really she was hiding her blush.

"Don't flatter yourself, Your Highness. I am merely contributing to your warmth; we mustn't have a sick Princess in our midst. That would make a terrible slogan for our rebellion – "Fight on! Run! With your noses! Join the Sniveling Hero Princess!" and so forth."

The Princess laughed – it was a terrible joke. Ben neither had wit nor delivery fit for a proper joke. But still, the Princess laughed. Ben always knew his comedic performances were a joke itself, but at this knowledge, his cheerful attempts supersede everything - and his character shone as charming.

"Yeh – if you like that, you should come see me at the Cow and Corset after this is all over."

"You are going back?"

"Oh to be sure, I will continue my holy pilgrimage of roaming this earth – but every now and then I think I shall pop in to show off my experiences. Your pretty laugh is very encouraging to my long dead comedic career."

In great embarrassment with herself, she blushed once again, no one but Elliot had ever made a mention of anything about her as _pretty_. Although there was once a time, Logan, oh so long ago – he complimented her in a beautiful blue gown during a ball. How differently his character had become – an evil character.

"Logan, he… I don't know why he had changed so severely. I mean, since our mother died. He used to be so kind. And now…"

"He's cutting heads off, left and right."

The Princess was speechless for a moment at this direct unforgiving statement. She figured Logan to be more complicated, something about him should be forgiven, if not how can she call herself a sister? But she nodded her head. The orange glow of the burning pit in front of them both shone in contrast to the darkness, it displayed gloominess to her features. She nodded, because it was the truth and her sadness was more than apparent. Ben was at first, taken back at the sudden mention of the wrathful King of Albion.

"When and how did you run away?" asked Ben.

The Princess looked up at him, thought a moment on how their conversation veered off so easily from their previous discussion.

"Perhaps no more than two weeks before Walter and I arrived here" said the Princess.

"Now wait a minute, I thought you were about to tell me a story of when you were younger."

"What gave you _that_ impression?" she huffed.

"I told you stories of my childhood, my hopes, and my dreams – are you to tell me you had never once in your life ever been rebellious? You never pursued any desires? You just took orders, behaved and never uttered a word of protest?"

She fell silent once more. Walter, who had overheard the few minutes of this conversation, walked over and brashly told him, "Shut up Ben". Both jumped at the very booming sensation of his voice. Finn immediately shifted away from the Princess from where she sat, trying not to cause any further alert from Walter.

"Being chummy are we, Captain Finn?" inquired Walter, who raised an eyebrow at the both of them.

"Just thought I'd get to know what the plan was. You know, before Swift and I jump in and kill ourselves" he replied.

"The plan is simple, Ben. We gather as much followers as we can, round up the group, and overthrow the king. We must make as much allies as possible. We cannot take on Logan's royal guards alone."

"I'll bet you if I take Logan's side I'd be better paid for this sort of work, this soldiering business" he joked. But Walter only sighed; Ben wasn't nearly as experienced as both he and Swift. However, he had been in the army for quite a while to know that there is no reward in their profession, not materialistically anyway. They might lose more than what is to gain, most likely their lives. Soon, Swift rejoined his old friend and attempted to get caught up with the conversation. Both Ben and the Princess stood up. It was then Major Swift asked Ben to teach the Princess how to use the mortar. He assured her it was perfectly safe and would be great experience for her to understand the mechanics of such weaponry in case of future battles. Secretly, this was also part of Swift's test whether the Princess can handle being a rebel leader.

"As you know, we lost a lot of good men last night. Including the late Lieutenant Simmons, poor chap. The air is cold. They will be back again tonight. Captain Finn will show you the know-hows, my dear. Ben, do be so kind as to take her to Jammy – he will be ready for you both."

At this, Swift and Walter left them. Swift walked away while puffing away the smoke of his pipe. Walter, who lagged behind a little, spoke directly to Finn.

"You mustn't be too harsh on the Princess, Ben. She went through a great deal more than you realize." Then he left the pair and rejoined Major Swift, they returned to their conversation of how Logan seemed to have sent them on the best assignments.

Ben turned to his companion,

"I… am sorry I snapped. That was terrible manners on my part."

"I forgive you", the Princess replied smiling, but then with serious tone continued "only if you show me how to use the mortar properly and without undermining me."

Ben smiled and nodded with respect, very playfully he brushed his fist against her chin – and walked off. She is absolutely in self-denial if the Princess did not admit she is growing attached to the Captain; unwillingly she repressed her feelings. Her hesitation exceeded her honesty and held back any reaction to that act just now. The Princess is not by any means willing to lose herself in complete sensibility. As she watched Ben walk, she touched her chin, wishing he'd touch her again. Ben led her past the stairs they had previously climbed the hour before, then approached a very odd gangly fellow who was patched up perhaps eighty percent of his entire body. The soldier was covered in bloody bandages; some wounds looked a little fresh. The very sight of the man took the Princess by surprise. The soldier was standing up as straight as he could; he saluted both the Captain and the Princess.

"My Lady, may I introduce, Private Jammy."

"Private Jammy, at your service ma'am!" he sniffled.

"Jammy?" the Princess giggled, but then reposed, "Ahem, that is truly your name?"

"Oh" Jammy chuckled "It's true what they say, you know. Jammiest soldier in Albion. Seven hundred and twenty-four wounds and still standing."

The Princess shook his hand with confidence and sympathy; she looked closely at his wounds but not for very long – as she did not want to be rude. The lad was warm and homey.

Ben chuckled, "Don't worry you'll get used to him. After a while he's hardly revolting at all."

"Oh I hardly think so," said the Princess, then she turned back to Jammy, "I commend you for your unbroken spirit, Private. It is a very admirable trait."

Jammy smiled brightly at this recognition, Ben coughed and continued to the matter at hand,

"I suppose you never used a mortar before,"

The Princess shook her head.

"There's always a slight chance of maiming, of course – but I'm sure you'll pick it up. Alright Jammy, it's time to show her the ropes."

At this the Princess' smile turned upside down, she did not feel intimidated by Ben's cynicism. He once again, underestimated her. Jammy explained to the Princess how the mortar works, and then explained his role as a 'loader' in the process. He continued teaching her until it was time to practice.

"Right then, my life's going to be in your hands, so let's make sure you know what you're doing okay?"

The Princess nodded; out of nowhere Ben held the mortar's weight over her hands.

"Whoa there, girl. Be careful where you're aiming. The scarecrows are that way."

The Princess looked at Ben; she was going to turn red again at the touch of his rough hands on her knuckles, but with agitation said aloud,

"Captain, I am well aware of myself. Now please, back up, otherwise we'll both be maimed at the cost of your overexcitement".

Ben backed off; he smiled crookedly at the Princess' stubbornness. He thought it was rather cute. He realized now that she was the type who refuses to be weak in the knees – independent and strong. Perhaps there really is hope in her after all. He was further amazed at her strength (although he thought it was just her being boned, not her Heroic blood). When Ben first used the mortar years ago, he himself had difficulty controlling the weight and shifting its target. Jammy loaded the mortar continuously as the Princess obliterated each scarecrow one at a time. Jammy cheered with excitement,

"Yeah! Destroy them scarecrows! Boom! Boosh! Bloody brilliant!"

He had never seen such skilled maneuvering, and this was her first time, a girl! A Princess!

"You're not the least bit bourgeois-type are you?" said Jammy and the Princess only smiled quietly at the comment. Ben got a bit defensive at the connection the two were having, as much as he was charmed by the Princess' smile and his loveable subordinate – he had to break it and continue the mission,

"Alright Jammy, don't get too excited. Just finish the last one."

"Right, we got one more scarecrow to go – oh, hold on…"

Jammy looked peculiar in the distance towards the last scarecrow, it seemed differently dressed than the rest and didn't remember whether he set that up himself.

In the blink of an eye, the scarecrow broke away from its bonds and mystic glowing spheres appeared from the ground. There, emerged like a horrific camper tale, the rotting bodies of bones and meat enclosed by worn dirt clothes. The night was no longer filled with dead air, but dead bodies wielding rusty weapons. Each came by half a dozen, their eyes glowing with the same spheres, hungry for the living. Seeking to attack the fort. Ben yelled,

"THEY'RE HERE!"

He didn't have to say to anyone, who or what are coming to attack Fort Mounrningwood – the men are prepared. Everyone scrambled with their rifles and swords, each soldier awaited for those up in the mortars to clear the evil skeletons first. Ben pressed for the Princess to continue firing,

"It's all you now, Princess!"

Without any further instruction, the Princess' awareness of the battlefield became acute and with the help of Jammy's speedy loading and direction – she demolished the soulless boned army at every emergence. One can say the Princess' talents are showing immensely, Jammy was constantly impressed by the devastation she is laying on them.

"Haha! Bye-bye skellies!" he cried with joy.

"That was amazing!" said Ben, "Be careful not to get that zombie dust in your eyes!"

The Princess, in midst of all this chaos outside and inside her mind, laughed and was strangely happy as the rest of the men were. The soldiers looked on victoriously and became inspired by the Princess' great skills. However, the confidence of the soldiers of not having to put up a fight, was short lived, Major Swift yelled that the hollow men were coming at them by the rear door. He ordered all men to take their guns and posts. Ben pulled the Princess by the back of her jacket to get downstairs,

"That's enough blood thirst for you, love" then to the men "Do not – let them get through!"

The soldiers downstairs tried to hold their wooden gate closed, but the strength in numbers that of the hollow men was too great. They were hauled to the ground, and the hollow men ran crashing through in waves – attacking at everything that is alive. Ben and Swift with their rifles, are armed and ready; they made repeated shots towards the dead men. Walter and the Princess drew their swords – ready to take them on in close combat. At her first swing, the Princess severed an arm and a leg at her second; she laid a reversed strike that destroyed a hollow man. One by one, she killed them off and turned them into mere bags of bones. This was the time, the moment, where she repeats everything that Sir Walter taught her. All the moves and dodges that make her a skilled, educated and proficient fighter. Her sword was long and it acted like an extension of her arm – it danced with her, her twirls and rolls gave deadly strikes immediately after. The constant back and forth with the sword made her looks as if she was swaying.

Ben couldn't help but to notice her at the corner of his eye, as he skillfully made headshots on every hollow man in his range. She was a true vision of a heroic warrior; she radiated intensely, as if she was born to do this. It was in this setting that suit her best. She appeared so much more womanly than before. Her long hair swept across her face each time she made a turn, her skin glowed, and her lips looking plumped and tense as she constantly gasps for air in her movements. In that moment, her moves became more of an art form than a battle for survival. 'So she's the real deal, she really is a Hero', he thought. Something in Ben awoken, something he thought he had long abandoned during his younger years. Perhaps it was faith in Heroes, to believe in a power greater than his. Whatever it may be, she helped him get it back. As soon as the Princess stabbed a hollow man in the rib, she swiftly took out her rifle and shot an incoming one from the opposite direction in the eye. But the Princess' count in rhythm and visual perception, even only for one second, was flawed. She did not see a third coming towards her right after her shot, her eyes were looking hard, watching the dead man coming at her in slow motion – but then she heard an even louder shot. The third hollow man diminished into dust, she turned her head to see that Ben Finn had her back this whole time. Ben had a look of worry accompanied with a smoking gun. He sighed in relief and gestured a short salute with a smile. For once, the Princess was truly at ease with Ben's intentions and gladly welcomed the help.

Sadly that moment of connection was cut short, when Jammy's body hit the ground hard right next to the Princess. It came out of nowhere; he took a huge strike from a hollow man's mace. To her sudden horror, the Princess wanted to scream, but couldn't. Her eyes merely widened with shock in that same moment he laid flat on the earth. As a muffled-out sound to her ear, she could hear Ben yelling his name, the pain and misery of losing another close subordinate became too much to bear. Jammy was not moving, what was once the luckiest and spirited soldier was now a lifeless one.

The Princess got back up and her thirst for vengeance made her ruthless and sadistic. She grew tired of the increasing number of hollow men that continued to march through the gates. But it was after the her last blow, that she did not realize her endurance had led her to annihilation of the last hollow man – the fort was empty. The soldiers cheered at their victory – but another surprise came when a larger hollow man emerged from the earth. It shocked everyone to see that the hollow men had resurrected the body of Lieutenant Simmons. The undead monster roared at the Princess – who became his primary target. The large swords swung at her, he shook the earth that caused the men to stumble and faint. In a whole minute, the girl was all alone. No Ben to cover her, no Walter to come between and no soldiers. She grew weary of these obstacles, she screamed at the monster,

"I am not afraid of you!"

The late Simmons spat out more of those glowing spheres that rose back up into hollow men. With her rifle, she made quick repeated headshots that took out his lackeys in an instant. Whenever he ran out of pawn, the Princess rolled around him and struck him with her fire magic and sword. She put all her strength into his defeat, she thought of Jammy and all the soldiers who sacrificed their lives to protect Albion from all kinds of evils. She refused to accept that same fate for future soldiers – especially Ben Finn – who she saw with worry lying on the floor with Swift and her mentor Walter. Simmons was too big and had electric powers that made him too slow to kill, this frustrated the Princess. She had to block all his powerful strikes that came down upon her sword like thunder. Without hesitation, she seized an opening. The Princess leaped over Simmons and severed his head, it fell off his neck and rolled off – and then both head and body turned to dust. At that moment, the sky cleared and dawn was breaking. She did it! She had defeated them!

All the soldiers awoke from their unconsciousness; Ben came to as well and looked around at the remains of all the hollow men.

"That was pretty damn impressive!" he exclaimed, and then in a whisper put his arm around her in a comrade-like fashion, "So your mother wasn't the last Hero of Albion after all."

"I can't believe it," she sighed "This whole time you doubted me?"

"Oh no, I suspected. But I needed to be proven."

"Well I think, now, you should thank me for…"

"Let the poets tell our epic tale!" he cried to the men, "The Swift Brigade fought against impossible odds. They won. The end."

The Princess made pursed her lips, just when she thought she had gained some respect and understanding from the man. Walter and Swift came into consciousness, got up, dusted off hollow man ashes and approached the two. The other soldiers also came feeling glorious, all wanted to shake the Princess' hand and even bow. This embarrassed her, she did not want at all to feel superior. She urged them not to bow, but she felt very close to them. For once, she didn't have subjects, she had comrades.

"Well Sir Walter, you didn't do too bad," said Ben shaking his hand, "for an old man."

"Neither did you, for a buffoon." Replied Walter.

Everyone laughed. The Princess was so happy, as were the rest of them, to be rid of this struggle – the battle was over. She finally understood all the times Walter told his bedtime stories and explained the feeling of victory to her – she felt that wave. It is the joy of surviving and just being alive.

"Ahh, that was just like old time Walter. Just like old times" said Swift.

"So what do you say? Will you join us? With your help we can put a stop to Logan's madness and bring back the real Albion army."

Major Swift hesitated at these words, his thoughts are forming through his mouth and he finally spoke,

"I swore to serve my King to the death, but this wasn't meant to be. The old guard has been shoved aside, and these new soldiers Logan has been gathering… they don't care about the land or its people."

"And I bet they get paid more" grumbled Ben.

Swift turned to the Princess; he looked deeply into her eyes with highest respect and addressed her as such,

"Walter has absolute faith in you, and after seeing you in action, so do I. all that I ask if that you make a soldier's oath. Let your armies protect the people instead of oppressing them. Bring honor back to this uniform."

"Yeah and don't forget the pay rise" Ben added.

"Shut up, Ben." Walter hissed.

The Princess with every integrity and virtue, smiled with relief that Swift had finally come around, shook his hand and promised to him her word, a Princess and soon a Queen's promise. All the soldiers of Albion will be honorable and follow justified orders; also she would make Swift the next General when she reinstates the old army.

Within the hour, Ben finally caught the Princess alone after she was swarmed with compliments and declarations of loyalty to the rebel cause by the soldiers of the Swift Brigade. She rested on a bedroll, and Ben sat on the bedroll next to her. He gave her a pint of ale, as ordered by Major Swift to go round. The Princess rarely drank any kind of alcohol, but despite the early morning and long battle, she could go for anything. Before Ben even got started with his, he saw the Princess lifted the bottom of the mug and finished the last drop. Without care, she lay down and wiped the corner of her lips with her jacket's sleeve. She took a long, deep, and loud breath. Her chest was heaving trying to gain as much oxygen as she could, her state of relaxation was of no avail, and her heart could not be still. Ben sympathized, this must've been her first real battlefield, he thought. As her eyes were staring deep into the space of the sky, Ben's hand rested on her forehead and she averted her attention to him.

"Well, rest assured that slogan about a sniveling rebel Princess wouldn't have happened."

"Oh Ben" she sighed.

"Yes?" he responded a bit excitingly.

"Poor Jammy."

"Oh." He reposed.

"I.. I didn't… I mean, I did everything in my power to… I never wanted harm to come to the men."

Ben hushed her gently and stroked her cheek. But it only piled on her overwhelming guilt, that she could have saved Jammy. If only she fought right next to him. Hot tears started to leak through her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Ben wiped them off with his sleeve, his facial expression was indifferent but his heart melted at her quiet display of emotion – her empathy for mere soldiers, most who were sent here to die in the fronts, made her a compassionate leader.

"Please, don't let Walter and Swift see me. They'll think I'm weak."

The Captain placed his body hovered over the Princess, shielding her from the world. If anyone were to walk closely by, no one would have to see her cry. The Princess was not bothered or surprised by this gesture; she appreciated every bit of it.

"Just let it out" whispered Ben. And she did. Ben continued, "For an incredibly and mannishly strong Princess, you need a lot of protecting."

The Princess laughed slightly disheartened and wiped her tears away, their noses were so close together, she almost worried he'd keep teasing her about a runny nose again while she sniffled.

"I guess I'm just, a girl, like you thought I was."

"No, I was wrong. You are the most incredible woman, I had ever known. You are strong; you never let anything get the best of you. The powers you wield are awe-some. You are a Hero. And I…" right then and there Ben wanted to tell her of his falling in love. Perhaps, even planned on kissing her, but he felt a sharp tug at his collar and felt it pull up his body a couple of feet off the ground like a noose around his neck. The moment of intimacy had been broken, a red-faced Walter Beck forced him on his feet – but without losing his cool announced that they were just leaving.

The Princess didn't even realize the moment they were having, she immediately checked herself and stood up awkwardly. Her composure was regained and her sense returned. She gathered her things and after Walter said his goodbyes to Swift, he beckoned her to follow and meet the next allies.

"I took your stay here for granted, M'Lady."

The Princess looked back at Ben quietly, her walk slowed.

"You fought so bravely, there were so much of you to admire."

She only smiled and continued walking, saying nothing. Ben tried not to show panic. He said laughingly,

"Are you going to leave me so unsatisfied? What did you take from this, apart from our alliance?"

The Princess stopped for a moment. His desperation was discreet but he needed something – anything - to show her interest and attachment in him. With almost a wink that she learned after his charming techniques, and with a smile so sweet and innocent replied,

"That your eyes are blue."

Ben was speechless, one could only think this was mere observation – but to him, it was acknowledgement. Major Swift only scratched his head in confusion at the mysterious code of communication between the two. Walter and the Princess continued out the gate and off on their trail to Bowerstone. Ben Finn lingered there for a while until the two forms disappeared in the morning mist.

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><p><strong>Remember, comments, critiques and reviews welcome!<strong>


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